Oh no, they know we're here!

c 1996, Rory Cargill

Top policiy planners here at Invisiblehall have recently had to take onboard the unthinkable. ET's. Yes, aliens. Even if they're very good at hiding themselves or have yet to reach our planet, some of them are bound to know that we're here on this great planet of ours making a total pig's ear of things. The reason being that we've been shouting out our presence in the form of radio-waves for the last 80 years. Seeing how radio-waves travel a the speed of light, anyone within 80 light-years would know all about us.

Wonderful, you might think. Quite possibly. But here at the Invisiblin, we make contingency plans for all possible scenarios. Without a doubt, we consider it efficacious to delay telling the public about the existence of extraterrestials. After all, our retired intelligence officers need to have some spicy state secrets to put in their memoirs to make up for their paltry pensions.

  1. We must let them know that we are a noble race and nothing at all like the warmongering, backstabbing, brainless morons they've been watching in all our soaps and trash-cultcha epics.
  2. It is imperative to convince them that they really always wanted to share their technology with us because they're such wonderful advanced beings.
  3. If possible, keep them here as "honoured guests" (prisoners in luxury) until we can get a ship out and about using their technology so we can check out their story. They might be telling the truth, then again they might be totally devious liars. They might be an advance scout for others who have less pleasant plans for us.

At this point we at the Invisiblegon considered enforcing total radio silence on our planet by forcing everyone to "Go cable", but realized that the damage was already done. And anyway, sudden radio silence would be a total giveaway that we'd realized too late that we'd made a serious boo-boo flooding the local arm of the galaxy with our soap-operas and deodorant adverts. So far we've come up with two possibilities both of which employ the considerable special-effects capabilities of our entertainment industry:

  1. Proceed with cabling all broadcasts while broadcasting outwards the "World War 3 Rambo meets Godzilla meets Terminator 3-way puch-up" Cecil B. DeMille "cast-of-thousands" epic series. Given Hollywood's skill at killer-thriller war films, this shouldn't present any problems. If they try to run over budget, just tell 'em it's part of the war effort and they can put up and shut up if they want to work in Hollywood ever again. The climax of the World War 3 series would be a faked nuclear holocaust. We could easily detonate a few thousand nuclear warheads well outside the Van-Allen belts. The blast of radiation would be easily detectable and, at great distance, it would appear as if we'd gone and nuked ourselves. Most observers probably wouldn't be able to tell the difference at galactic distances. For this plan to work, there'd have to be virtually total radio-emission silence (ie: it'd have to wait until the cabling had been completed) after the big "nuke-out" to make it seem convincing. Naturally, we'd run the tragic post-holocaust melodrama in full drab-o-vision showing the last few survivors dieing of radiation-poisoning and/or starvation just to make it look all the more convincing. Maybe throw in a bit of resource-war scrabbling for good measure, too.
  2. Don't bother with cabling at all and encourage the broadcasting industry to pump out it's most inane, confusing, obscure and banal drivel. This might be just enough to convince all comers that we're totally insane and are best off left alone in case they end up as doolally as us.

Mad about ET's!!!